Blood Runs Thicker
by lil Didi
Summary: A plea from his mother has Jarrod on a mission to help Heath after Maria's rejection, but a weekend in San Francisco doesn't go quite like he planned. (A one-shot follow-up to the episode Winner Loses All.)


**Blood Runs Thicker**

For the first time in days, the thick fog that had rolled into the city by the bay lifted, leaving behind clear blue skies. Slowly, the citizens of the city came out to enjoy the warmth of the sun's rays, the parks and outdoor cafés filling up. The summer warmth had only been missing for a few days, but people were happy for its return none the less.

The day, however, was not being enjoyed by one of San Francisco's citizens. Jarrod Barkley sat behind his desk with a virtual mountain of paperwork sitting in front of him. The sun came through the window unnoticed as the lawyer buried himself in one document after another.

"Come in," Jarrod replied to the knock on his door. He was reviewing a deposition for an early court appearance the following day and only briefly glanced up to see who had entered his office.

"Afternoon Mr. Barkley," his clerk said brightly. "I have those files you wanted."

"Thanks," came the mumbled reply.

"I also finished transcribing your notes from Thursday's land commission meeting." The young clerk put the stack of papers on Jarrod's desk. He waited for an acknowledgement, but when none came, he added, "And I picked up your mail."

"Great."

The clerk chewed his lower lip, hoping Jarrod would look up, but was disappointed when the older man continued to read the document before him, barely paying attention to his employee. Finally the clerk cleared his throat, giving a nervous smile when his boss finally looked up.

"Was there something you needed, Henry?" Jarrod finally asked.

Suddenly nervous, Henry bounced on his toes. "No, not exactly, sir. I just…"

Jarrod tried not to let his impatience show. "Yes, Henry?"

"Well, last week, you mentioned…well, you said I could…your theatre tickets…"

Jarrod blinked several times. "Oh, right!" Jarrod said, suddenly remembering that he had promised his theatre tickets for this week's showing of _MacBeth_ to Henry and his new girl, who just happened to be the daughter of one of Jarrod's friends. "I'm sorry. Guess I've been a bit distracted lately." Jarrod opened a drawer on his desk and pulled out the two tickets. He held the tickets up teasingly. "Now Henry, I know I don't have to tell you be a gentleman tonight. Compliment her dress, her hair, her sense of humor, and anything else you can think of. Agree with her when she says she loves the play, even if you hate it. And most important, be sure to get her home at a reasonable hour, or her father, Judge Wilkins, will take it out on me, and I in turn will take it out on you."

Henry blushed slightly as he took the offered tickets. "I will, Mr. Barkley."

Jarrod smiled and shook his head as his young clerk hurried out the door. Part of him was jealous of his clerk and his night out, and for a moment he considered going over to his favorite club for a drink and a hand or two of poker. Looking down at the stack of papers waiting for him, he suppressed a sigh. He still had a lot of work to do before court tomorrow. There would be no night out for him, at least not in the near future.

Not ready to dive back into the case yet, Jarrod picked up the stack of mail and flipped through several pieces before he came to one with familiar handwriting. With a smile he opened the letter from his mother. It opened with the usual small talk, updating him on happenings in Stockton and the social activities of his little sister. She also relayed how Don Alfredo Montero had relented and finally agreed to allow Burt Hadley and the other homesteaders to stay on their land, though it was apparently not without some drama.

Jarrod wasn't surprised. He knew how hot-headed Burt Hadley could be and even though Jarrod had been reasonably sure the Spanish don would agree to sell the land back to the Barkley family so that they could in turn give it to the homesteaders that had bought the land from his father in good faith, he knew the process wouldn't be an easy one. Don Alfredo was about as stubborn as they came. He knew he would have to return to Stockton in the near future to work out the details, but wasn't looking forward to dealing with the stubborn old don. With a shake of his head, he went back to the letter.

Within minutes, Jarrod was shaking his head with a mixture of wonder, anger, and finally sympathy. His mother explained briefly the relationship between Heath and Maria Montero, Don Alfredo's daughter, and how Don Alfredo had not approved of the match due to Heath's heritage, even going so far as to suggesting an arranged marriage between Nick and Maria. Ultimately, Maria had chosen her father over Heath, and according to his mother, Heath was not taking it well. He had become more sullen and withdrawn than usual, avoiding family meals and basically working himself from sun up to sun down. His mother closed the letter by asking Jarrod to come home to speak with Heath as it seemed Nick was making no headway in that department.

Letting the letter fall to the desk, Jarrod rubbed his eyes and ran a hand through his hair. There were times when it didn't pay to be Pappy. He knew his brother needed him, but he looked at the stack of papers in front of him and knew there was no way he could go home right now. He would be tied up in court for the next several days and even if he could get home over the weekend, he knew it would only put him further behind.

He sat for some time, re-reading the letter, feeling his mother's worry through the words on the paper. He supposed he could try to go home for at least a day. He could take the late train Saturday afternoon and return Sunday evening. It wouldn't leave him much time to talk to his brother, but he supposed even a few hours was better than nothing.

An idea came to Jarrod's mind and he smiled to himself. He grabbed for a piece of paper and hastily wrote out a telegram to his mother, hoping she would be able to convince his youngest brother to agree. He packed up his papers and headed out the door, knowing he would have to hurry to get his telegram off before they closed for the day.

**BVBVBVBVBVBVBVBVBV**

Jarrod entered his home and tossed his hat onto the table next to the door. He puffed on his cigar with a satisfied smile. He would have liked to stay with his brothers at the club, but knew they were in good hands and he had an early morning tomorrow. He only hoped the evening out his brothers had helped Heath shake off the melancholy he had been carrying around all weekend.

His brothers had come in on the afternoon train at his invitation and the three of them had plans to spend the weekend exploring the city. After dinner at one of Nick's favorite restaurants, a steak house, of course, they had gone to Jarrod's gentlemen's club for a night of drinks and poker. While Jarrod had warned them that he would have to call it an early night due to early obligations the next morning before they began their day together, Nick and Heath had elected to stay a longer.

Actually, Nick had elected to stay a bit longer. Jarrod had lost track of Heath after one of the pretty serving girls turned out to be an old friend from Heath's often checkered past. The pair had disappeared to a quiet corner to catch up while Nick had joined a poker game and Jarrod had met some friends and shared a drink. At a quarter to eleven, Jarrod decided he'd had enough and made his escape, wishing Nick luck and reminding him to bring Heath home, preferably before sunrise.

As Jarrod moved to head up the stairs to his room, he noticed a light coming from his study. His brow knitted. It wasn't like his housekeeper to be so careless as to leave a lamp burning after she left. He walked down the hall, already thinking of how to address the oversight with Mrs. Johnson when he stopped in his tracks as he stepped into the study.

"Heath?" he said when he saw his brother sitting in one of his reading chairs in front of the empty fireplace, a drink in his hand.

His brother jumped up, startled, the book that had been sitting in his lap falling to the floor with a resounding thud. The contents of his glass sloshed over his hand, which Heath quickly wiped on his pants. "Howdy, Jarrod," his brother said, his face slightly flushed. He looked down at the book that had fallen near his feet. "Oops, sorry," Heath said as he bent down to retrieve the book, dropping a picture he had held in his opposite hand onto the chair. He looked none to steady on his feet as he straightened back up, swaying slightly.

"Heath, what are you doing here? I thought you were still at the club?" Jarrod asked as he stepped into the room.

"Oh, I, uh, left a while ago. Guess I didn't feel much like sch-ocializing." Heath shook his head, then shrugged, knocking back what was left of his drink before moving to put the book back on the shelf where it belonged. His steps were hesitant and Jarrod watched with narrowed brow as Heath had to hold onto the shelf for several minutes, trying to steady himself.

Jarrod picked up the half empty bottle of very expensive scotch that was on the table next to the chair Heath had been occupying. He eyed his brother before he picked up a fresh glass and poured himself a drink. He picked up the picture Heath had been holding. It was the family portrait they had done the last time Jarrod had been in Stockton. It was a good picture and he liked it so much he had a second one made for his desk at work.

Heath stood frozen by the bookcase, watching Jarrod with glazed eyes.

"I thought you were with Dixie, Heath. You should have told Nick or I that you were leaving."

Heath blinked several times before he spoke. "We talked for a bit, but I wasn't really in a talk'n mood." He drew in a deep breath before he went on. "I didn't see either of you around so I told Dixie to let you know I was heading home early."

Jarrod looked back down at the picture he was holding. He didn't think it would do much good to lecture Heath in his present condition, so he changed the subject by saying, "This a good picture. One of the best we've ever taken, I think."

Heath shrugged. "A little out of balance," he mumbled as he moved over to the fireplace, resting an arm on the mantle as he looked into the empty fire grate. He drew in several deep breaths and seemed a bit steadier.

Jarrod thought of offering his brother a drink but seeing how much of the bottle was already gone, he thought better of it. "What do you mean, Heath?" he asked instead.

After a few moments of gazing into the emptiness, Heath turned back to his brother. Jarrod saw a flash of pain in his brother's eyes, but it was quickly gone. "Don't matter," Heath said. "I'm tired, think I'll head up to bed."

Jarrod reached a hand out to grab his brother's arm, halting him from leaving. "What do you mean, Heath?"

Heath looked down at his brother's hand on his arm, his jaw tensing. Jarrod let him go, but stood firm in front of Heath, not allowing him to leave. He held his brothers eyes with his own.

The tension seemed to leave Heath's body as he turned away and refilled his glass. Jarrod said nothing as Heath took a drink of the amber liquid. He held his hand out for the picture that Jarrod still held. As he took it, Heath allowed his thumb to cover up his own image, holding it up for Jarrod to see.

It took a few minutes for Jarrod to understand what his brother was doing, but as Heath's thumb slowly slid away, it hit him. The way the family was arranged in the picture, left Heath on the edge, almost separate from the rest of the family and easily covered by a stray thumb. Jarrod, Nick, Audra and Gene were arranged around their mother evenly, which left Heath as the extra person on one side, making the picture look out of balance.

Jarrod looked up at his brother, but no words came as he saw the flash of pain again before Heath turned back to the fireplace. He watched as Heath drained his glass once again, leaning one arm against the mantle as he waited.

"Heath-" Jarrod began.

"I'm tired, Jarrod," Heath said so softly that Jarrod had to strain to hear it. He thought his brother was once again referring to going to bed, but Heath's next words showed him how wrong he was. "Tired of fighting my way through life, tired of working twice as hard as any other man, tired of having to prove my worth." He twirled the empty glass in his hand, watching as the light of the lamp caught the contours of the glass sending rainbows of color out. "Tired of coming up short and being told I'm not good enough because of the blood I carry."

Jarrod stepped forward to stand next to his brother. "Heath, there's nothing you have to prove to us."

Heath shook his head. "No, maybe not to you," he said quietly. "But…to others…to people like Burt Hadley and Don Alfredo-"

"Hadley is an idiot and Don Alfredo a stubborn old fool," Jarrod said hotly. "His opinion doesn't matter."

"It mattered to her," Heath returned with just as much heat, but a trace of sadness, too.

Jarrod didn't have to ask who heath was referring to and had nothing to say to that. Or at least nothing that Heath would listen to. As far as Jarrod was concerned, Maria was a fool too, but he didn't think Heath needed to hear that right now. Jarrod opened his mouth to speak, but Heath beat him to it.

"He forced her to make an impossible decision, Jarrod, to choose me over him. How could I ask her to do that? How could I ask her to choose someone like me over her own flesh and blood, her father?" Heath shook his head. "You know what the funny part is? I almost thought she would. For a little while, we rode away together and I started to think she _had_ chosen me."

"I don't think it is funny at all, Heath."

Once more, blue eyes met blue and Heath let his brother see the depth of his pain before he shrugged and turned away again. "Ain't the first time I come in second and I guess it won't be the last. You'd think a body would get used to it."

Jarrod was glad his brother was not looking at him as he felt a flush of guilt and shame over Heath's words. He knew that Heath still felt the sting of rejection from their father, despite the evidence they had found that indicated Tom Barkley had never known about Heath. Still, knowing that he and Nick, along with their mother, were the reasons that their father left Strawberry and never looked back still weighed heavily on him.

He was still struggling to find the right words to share with his brother when Heath spoke again, his voice low and tight with emotion.

"I wanted it to be me. God help me Jarrod, I didn't care how much it hurt Hadley and the others, even Don Alfredo, but I wanted her to choose me, to stay with me. For once I wanted it to be me." Heath finally turned back to his brother. "Guess that makes me mighty selfish, don't it?"

Jarrod shook his head slowly. "I don't think it makes you selfish at all, Heath. If there is anyone on earth that deserves to be happy, it's you." He waited for Heath to give him a small nod of acknowledgement, wanting to choose his next words carefully. "I know Maria hurt you, Heath, but I hope you know how much this family loves you and wants to be there for you now."

The room was quiet for a few minutes as Jarrod let his words sink in. Finally, Heath nodded and said quietly. "I know. But it isn't easy, Jarrod. I…I've been takin' care of myself for about as long as I can remember."

"I know."

Heath shook his head sadly. "I don't think you do, Jarrod." Heath slumped back into his chair, defeat easily read in the slump of his shoulders. He ran a hand down his tired face. "You have no idea what it is like to doubt yourself, doubt your place, doubt whether or not you belong."

Jarrod watched his brother for several minutes, his heart going out to him. He knew Heath's transition had not been easy, but he was quickly realizing just how hard it had really been. He felt a fresh wave of guilt wash over him, knowing he should have been paying closer attention, should have spent more time with his newest brother. Six months. It had been six months since Heath had joined the family, and Jarrod suddenly realized they barely knew each other. He blew out the breath he had been holding and poured himself another drink as he sank into the chair next to his brother.

"I haven't lived your life, Heath, so I can't tell you I understand what you've been through. But you're wrong about one thing. You don't have a corner on the market of self-doubt. We've all been through it at one time or another." He saw the skeptical look Heath shot him, but Jarrod plowed on. "Maybe not in the same way, or to the extent you have, but believe me, it happens."

Heath still looked doubtful as he turned his eyes to the open window.

Jarrod let his own eyes drift in that direction, his voice soft. "When I was sixteen, I had to tell Father that I was leaving the ranch to go to school. I'll never forget the look on his face when I told him that I wanted a life outside of the ranch."

He felt Heath's eyes turn back to him and once again their gazes locked. "But why would he want to stop you from going to school? Nick could help around the-"

Jarrod gave him a slight smile. "I was sixteen, Heath. Nick was twelve and still going to the Stockton school. And even though we all knew he was destined to be a rancher, he wasn't the first born son."

Heath shook his head slightly to indicate he didn't understand.

Jarrod took a deep breath. "I think Father had this idea…an expectation that his first born would someday follow in his footsteps and take over the ranch. It was…well it was just the way things were done. He never would have stopped me from going mind you, but I hated seeing his disappointment. Mother understood, of course, and was more than supportive, but the whole time I was in school, I couldn't help wondering if I was doing the right thing."

Heath was silent as he watched his brother.

Despite the lack of response, Jarrod knew he had his brother's attention so he went on. "I threw myself into my studies, thinking that if I worked hard enough and became a great lawyer, Father would forget all about my leaving the ranch he loved so much behind. But my first case in my own practice didn't go well and I found all my old doubts creeping back in."

After several moments of silence, Jarrod heard Heath ask quietly, "So how did you get past it?"

"I was devastated after that trial, but Father wouldn't let me stay down. He came to me in my office one day, sat down across from me, and told me that one failure didn't break a man any more than one success makes one. Then he told me that he was happy I had followed my own dream instead of his and that he knew I was going to be great lawyer." Jarrod looked over at his brother to make sure he still had his attention. "But the most important thing he told me that day, Heath, was that he was proud of me, despite what I perceived as a failure."

Jarrod watched as Heath's eyes flicked away, but immediately came back to him. Jarrod left his chair to kneel in front of his brother, locking his eyes on his brother's. "Heath, I have no doubt that if Father were here, he would say the same thing to you now. He would tell you that he is proud of the man that you have become. You did it on your own, going through some pretty rough things that none of us can ever understand, but you came through it with your head held high." Jarrod reached out to put a hand on Heath's knee. "You're one of the most giving, hardest working, kindest men I know. And there is nothing the Burt Hadley's and Don Alfredo's of this world can say that will change that fact. You're a good man, Heath. A man any father would be proud to call son and one I'm proud to call brother."

Silence descended on the room. Jarrod held his breath, waiting for a response from Heath. After another moment, Heath looked away, trying to hide the single tear that escaped from the corner of an eye, and Jarrod felt the moisture build in his own. He gave Heath a reassuring pat on the knee before he rose and moved away, giving them both a chance to regain their composure.

When he heard his brother stir after several long minutes, Jarrod turned toward him.

"Getting kinda' late. Guess I'll head up to bed," Heath said quietly.

Their eyes met and Jarrod could see the gratitude that his brother couldn't express verbally. He gave Heath a nod. "Goodnight, Heath," he said quietly.

"Goodnight, big brother," Heath said as he escaped from the room.

Jarrod sat sipping his scotch for a long time, lost in thought, but not rising to go to bed as he knew he should. He had no idea what time it was when he heard Nick come in and call out to him. "In here," he called, trying to keep his voice low.

Nick rushed into the room. "Is Heath here?"

"Yes," Jarrod answered. He saw the relief in his brother's face. "He went up to bed a while ago."

"I didn't realize he had left. Dixie finally told me he left hours ago and I panicked. Thought maybe he was out wandering the streets somewhere."

"No, he was right here when I got back. Getting drunk on my good scotch."

Nick sank into the empty chair. He let out a long breath. "Alone? Did he say why he left?"

Jarrod shrugged. "Said he didn't feel like socializing."

"Does he ever feel like socializing? That boy keeps more things bottled up…" He let the thought drift off. "So…is he okay?"

"I think so. We talked. I…I think he is going to be fine, Nick."

Nick got up to get himself a drink, ignoring Jarrod's scowl when he emptied the last of the scotch. He plopped back into the chair, letting his long legs stretch out in front of him. "I think Miss Maria Montero did a number on our little brother."

"I think Father did one, too," Jarrod replied softly, not meeting Nick's surprised gaze. After a moment, he saw his brother nod out of the corner of his eye.

"Yeah," was all Nick said. The two men sat silently sipping their drinks well into the night.


End file.
